Harry's Honesty
by Lemniscate35173
Summary: Umbridge's attempt to get Harry to talk. "How did Sirius Black escape?" "He hula-danced out of the tower, while Dumbledore and Snape became line dancers and Minister Fudge did the electric slide,"


**I don't own Harry Potter.**

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Harry decided that he would never buy anything pink ever again. Not that he was buying a lot of pink things already, but still. He might've gotten Post-Traumatic Pink Syndrome from all the pink in this office. Did the woman-toad hybrid buy any other color?

Speaking – no thinking – of the woman-toad hybrid, she was talking again in that horrid baby voice again. She had to realize that the only thing that voice did was make people want to strangle her. Harry tuned out her voice. All he ended up getting was: blah, blah, blah, secret organization, blah, blah, blah, Ministry Decree, blah, blah, blah, Minister Fudge.

Harry jumped as he realized she was talking to him now, instead of just continuing on with her psychobabble, as Hermione had named it. "Mr. Potter," Umbridge said, "Would you like some tea?" She started pouring without waiting for his answer.

_As if I would ever take anything from you,_ he answered in his mind. He knew from the other members of the D.A. had already warned him about the Veritaserum tea. Harry smiled mischievously in his mind as in idea struck him. He wasn't the son of Marauder for nothing. If this toad wanted him to tell the truth, well then he would tell her the truth. His truth, that was. "Yes, Professor Umbridge." Harry answered in his most angelic voice. "May I have some milk in it, Professor Umbridge?"

The toad-woman was visibly startled at his lack of defiance. Maybe she did have some brains after all. She smiled her toady grin. Maybe she didn't. "Of course you may, Mr. Potter." She said as she stirred the tea. She slid it across the desk, over to him. "Drink up."

Harry pretended to take a big swig of the tea, when in reality he just tipped the teacup against his closed lips, a move that just about every child had mastered by the age of seven. Then again, where would Umbridge know about that little fact? No one would ever want to procreate with her, except maybe Filch. He shuttered at the mental image. "Mr. Potter, is there anything wrong?" She asked in a fake-concerned tone that made it perfectly clear she wouldn't be happier if he died right there on her office floor.

Harry decided now was the time to begin his 'honesty'. "Just the mental image of you and Filch procreating," He answered, being sure to keep any emotion out of his tone.

Umbridge made an offended face at that, but she must've realized just how gross that actually would be, because she dropped it. "Do you know why you are here Mr. Potter?" She asked like a cat about to pounce on its prey. Then again, she wasn't graceful enough to be a cat.

"Maybe a toad?" Harry voiced out loud.

Umbridge looked startled. "Mr. Potter, did you hear my question?"

"Yes," He answered, seriously fighting to keep the cheek out of his tone, "I'm answering it right now."

"Mr. Potter, did you hear my prior question?" She asked. Harry could see her temper was starting to rise. He bit back an evil grin. That would do nothing for his image.

"Yes," Harry said, "I've already answered it."

"Then what," She asked, her temper continuing to rise, "does a toad have to do with your being here?"

"I don't know." Harry replied, still emotionless.

"Well then why did you answer it?!" Umbridge yelled, standing up.

"I didn't," Harry answered.

Umbridge sat down again. She tried to cool her raging temper, but it was clear from the blotchy redness in her cheeks that was slowly turning purple that she hadn't. "Well then, maybe you can tell me about Sirius Black." She said. "Where is he?"

"Where is who?" Harry asked in reply.

"Where is Sirius Black, you imbecile?" She yelled again. Harry noted with satisfaction that the red was almost entirely purple now, with patches of blue starting to sneak in. Maybe he should give her to one of the Art students and have them hand her in as a project. She was certainly colorful enough.

"I don't know. Why would I?" He asked, "You would make a great art project, you know that. You're all colorful."

"Alright then, Mr. Potter," She was desperately trying to keep from exploding, but he knew she was only one more outrageous answer away from demolition. "How did Sirius Black escape?"

Harry decided to go all out for this one. "He hula-danced out of the tower, while Dumbledore and Snape became line dancers and Minister Fudge did the electric slide," Harry answered in his still completely emotionless voice. He was amazed he could still keep from laughing. He deserved an Oscar or something for that.

"Mr. Potter, what is all this outrageous nonsense?!" Umbridge screamed. Harry was certain it could be heard all the way down in the dungeons.

"It was in my dream." Harry said.

"Your dream!" Umbridge screamed, now completely abandoning normal coloring. "Get out of my office, you half-witted baboon!"

Harry stood up, but could resist one last jibe. "You're going to get high blood pressure if you stay that color." He said as he walked out of the room. Umbridge's screams of fury could be heard clear over in Hogsmeade.


End file.
